


Three Times Yuri Felt Lonely + One Time He Had Hope

by transkhoshekh



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 3+1 Things, Coming Out, Crushes, Developing Sexuality, Jewish Viktor Nikiforov, Jewish Yuri Plisetsky, Not Otayuri, Not Victurio, Not YuuYuri, Trans Male Character, Trans Male Katsuki Yuuri, Trans Male Yuri Plisetsky, learning boundaries, teenage angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-27 11:56:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12080571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transkhoshekh/pseuds/transkhoshekh
Summary: Yuri has been a big gay ball of depression in love with virtually every boy he sees since he was at least 12. A lot of times these men end up being older than him, and Yuri has to accept that those relationships aren't going to work out.ORThree times Yuri gets rejected by older men and one time he finds someone close to his age.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> everything i write is a vent fic 
> 
> please don't comment anything about yurio/anyone, these are friendship drabbles.

 

This was so stupid. 

Yuri knew Viktor didn’t feel the same. Obviously. He was still in secondary school, hadn’t even made a commitment to his career goals, and the man was a god already. 

A really, really beautiful god…

He folded and unfolded the paper in his hands nervously, having given up worrying his lip between his teeth when it started to hurt too much. He forgot his stress ball at home this morning, too preoccupied with trying to block out the eeriness of the dead silence that clung to his house was when he was alone, but there were always other things to fiddle with. As he rocked softly back and forth on his feet in front of the locker room door, his hands skittered aimlessly around his person, searching for loose fabric, pulling at his hoodie strings, mouthing at his sleeves, pulling stray strings from his track pants. 

He just had to get it over with. He just had to tell him. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be for nothing. They were together all the time, he knew Viktor loved him in some manner, so maybe when he was older… 

It was farther away for him, a preteen just breaking into the skating world, but he could almost see a version of the future where they were both retired (in his daydream, Makkachin was somehow still alive), lighting a menorah together and making challah, finally able to relax on Friday nights without the demand of a skater’s schedule. It felt so real it hurt his chest. 

 

* * *

 

Yuri’s heart pounded when his phone screen lit up with a text from Виктор. It looked long (the whole message didn’t fit on the screen and was cut off with an ellipses) and Yuri switched the screen off, taking a steadying breath before he unlocked his phone to dive in.

**From Виктор 22:54:** Hey Yura!

    I know this isn’t a huge surprise and you said as much in your letter, but you are definitely way young for me, and like a little sister. That doesn’t mean you aren’t great, or a cool person, so please don’t think that either - you’ll find someone at some point. I didn’t even kiss anyone until I was 17. That's something skating can complicated and I know I'm not the image of well-adjusted, but you are not going to lose your window if you turn 13 and haven't held hands. I promise. 

    And I’m not mad at you, I promise.  I know it’s hard to tell people these things so I’m glad you trusted me and all that. I love you lots.

 

**From Виктор 22:55:** And you know I’ll keep it to myself, I don’t have anyone to tell. 

 

**From Виктор 22:57:** Fuck. I meant little brother. 

**From Виктор 22:58:** I can keep the brother part to myself too, if you want. But you can always talk to me about that too , you know. I’ve known I was gay longer than you’ve been alive, lol. And I can help you tell everyone else, whenever that’s something you want. 

Yuri’s eyes stung. 

Viktor was right; it was nothing he hadn’t expected, not Viktor’s signature of surprise. But rejection was rejection, and this was Yuri, who sometimes cried when Potya didn’t want to nap with him, even though he knew cats just needed space sometimes.

Even as he sat there staring at his phone, rereading the messages, he did have to wonder to himself: Would he even have been happy if this had turned out some other way? When he was 24 (ancient, really) and could do whatever he wanted (as 20-somethings can), would he want to be dating someone who barely understood what the different types of tampons were and didn’t have any chest hair? Probably not. If Viktor had actually been his brother, he probably would have been changing Yuri’s diapers.

Even as he buried his face in his pillow, headphones shoved in his ears so he could steer his focus elsewhere, he could feel a smile teasing at his lips. It wasn’t enough to break out onto his face, but he felt a contentment deeper in his chest, a blooming trust and affection replacing the sharpness of angst. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri talks to Yuuri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> actually updating something cause I already had most of this written when i published the first chapter sdhfgkjfdlsa
> 
> Bit of a dysphoria CW i guess but it's not super explicit!

“Do you LIKE him, Yuri??” Mila asked abruptly, voice ending on an octave that made his ears hurt.

He knew why she was so enthused - he’d been bouncing between teasing and berating (depending on what kind of person they were) her about her girlfriends since she started dating at 14 or so (The girl she was dating right now was a hockey player and Yuri had yet to decide if he liked her or not, but she had never misgendered him, which he appreciated). But that didn’t mean SHE got to make fun of HIM.

He felt his face heat up, embarrassment bubbling into irritation at her tone. How she had been able to pull that accusation out of a 20 minute long rant about how Katsuki’s jumps sucked and exactly how they could be better and exactly how Yuri himself could help him improve?? He didn’t know, but she was fixing him with a smug look that said she already knew the answer to her (frankly, intrusive and rude) question.

It was hard to admit to himself that his feelings for the loser were anything other than irritation, and yet...he could feel it, simmering under the surface, as much as he tried to make himself calm and his face blank.

When Yuri first saw him, it hadn’t been much more than an appreciation - there were lots of attractive men in spandex in the figure skating world, so raging with hormones or not, this new one hadn’t been anything special.

(Yuri told himself this as he looked for this other Yuuri’s Instagram)

Katsuki’s page seemed bare compared to his or Viktor’s - a few dogs shots here, some selfies with other skaters there, and intermittent aesthetically pleasing studying or food pictures - but what jumped out to him most was what appeared to be a candid shot, almost a year old now. The older skater was sitting at a picnic table that looked to be set up in the middle of the street, hunched slightly over a paper plate of food in front of him. His face was glowing softly pink, and against the hue of his cheeks, Yuri also noticed colorful facepaint - stripes of blue, pink, white, pink, and blue.

And around his chest, shoulders, and torso was a piece of fabric as familiar as the color scheme of the paint - tight nylon and cotton clinging to his skin, cut higher and with thicker straps than a bra, flattening out his chest in a way that would hurt if he left it on too long. Yuri could feel his own lungs expanding as much as they could almost sympathetically, knowing the way it could make you gasp for breath, especially when you were working out.  

Katsuki was trans, too.

And that was really what set it all off - passing interest turning into a more genuine ache to be with someone who would understand him better. Viktor tried - Yuri could probably count the number of times he’d slipped up with pronouns or gendered words on his fingers - and so did Mila and everyone else, but it wasn’t the same as someone being able to share their own stories, their own awkward experiences, their own anxiety with men’s locker rooms. But after the soft, stunned feeling he got from seeing his competitor so open with himself, his emotions veered almost immediately into an irritated, sparking jealousy.

Yuri wasn’t allowed to start hormones yet - he was only 15 and Yakov, while affirming Yuri’s gender as much as he could, didn’t want to take the risk of Yuuri undergoing more intense body changes than puberty was already going to be throwing at him. His binding always felt half-assed because his chest did not want to cooperate with the size of his frame, and he felt like it was forever noticeable, and palpable wrongness being carried around on his ribcage, paraded about whenever he couldn’t be swimming in a hoodie. It made skating really hard on his bad days - the conflicting desires of wanting to be seen and wanting to disappear.   
But Katsuki - he never would have guessed. Yuri swiped through all of the man’s selfies, glaring at his chest, trying to discern lumps or weird shadows, but it seemed like there were none - especially impressive since it seemed like someone else tended to be controlling the camera in the selfies. His face was mostly bare of scruff or stubble, but that hadn’t registered for Yuri - his face shape was less rounded and more squared off, and his voice was deep even when he spoke softly. He was pretty and male all at once, something Yuri had always hoped for but been scared he’d never be able to achieve.

Mila was staring at him still, smirking as she said, “He’s too old for you, Yura. I know that you took a “what’s my mental age” quiz and got 18, but even with your truly advanced brain and he’s a bit older than you.   
  
“I know!” Yuri spat back, cheeks on fire and she stomped away from her, towards the locker room he’d exited 10 minutes earlier. He knew she knew exactly how old he was; he did this all the time. Latched onto someone. Blushed. Acted embarrassing. He was always made to feel so childish.   


 

* * *

 

Yuri didn’t know why the pork cutlet bowl looked so mortified; _he_ wasn’t the one impulsively confessing what he knew were unrequited crushes after an already embarrassing loss.

His hair was slicked back but coming loose, framing his face in a sweaty crown. He was the picture of sexual love, just as Viktor wanted him to be, and Yuri could hardly stand the ache in his chest.

“I - Yuri. That’s sweet, I think - I used to get crushes on Mari’s friends too. That’s how she figured out I was gay, actually. She found a notebook where I’d been drawing hearts around me and her friend Maki’s names in every color pencil I could find and asked me very straight-forwardly if I liked boys.” He cut himself off to laugh a little self-consciously, and then continued, “He seemed flattered too, I think Mari told him that he made me gay and -” Katsuki stopped himself abruptly, scanning Yuri’s face.

“Sorry, sorry - rambling. Not important. You’re a lot younger than me, Yuri - I know you’ll be 16 soon, but god, I think of how I was when I was 16 and it’s like a whole different person. Not always in a bad way, just - different.”

Yuri didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t know why he kept doing this, impulsively confessing to people he knew would never feel the same. He wanted to scream, or throw something, and Katsuki looked so infuriatingly, distractingly handsome, even with one foot in a skate and one bare, a t-shirt pulled over the costume he was evidently too lazy to take off.

“If it helps, I think you did great out there today - you really found your agape.” His lips quirked into an (adorable) half smile and he said, “You don’t need me when you can already skate like that.”

Yuri nodded jerkily, spitting out a sharp, “Okay, pork cutlet bowl.” before he turned on his heel, yanking suitcase behind him and leaving the locker room as fast as he could, not wanting Katsuki to start talking about the first gay Valentine’s day card he ever got, or whatever else was in his repository of embarrassing puberty stories. This conversation was all Yuri had wanted after the performance, just to get it off his chest; he didn’t need to stick around when he already knew the results.

 

* * *

   
**14:15**

 **From** : Angry Yuri

 **To** : Yuuri Katsuki

_Don’t think this means you’ll win in the Grand Prix Final._

 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr is @gaykatsukiyuuri


End file.
